


Reciprocity

by engmaresh



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Female-Centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 02:56:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11842515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engmaresh/pseuds/engmaresh
Summary: Shmi shares a moment of intimacy with another slave.





	Reciprocity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Wavesinger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wavesinger/gifts).



Balea is there when she opens the door, a faint smile upon her weathered face. She holds a waterskin and bucket in one hand, and a sack in the other.

“Do you have time?” she asks.

Shmi steps aside to let her in. “Yes. Watto has dismissed me for the day, but if you’re looking for Anakin…”

“It’s all right,” says Balea. She passes Shmi the sack. It is heavy and clanks slightly as it settles in her cupped hands. “I know Watto keeps him busy. But if he can take a look at it, we’d really appreciate it.”

Shmi gives her a reassuring smile as she carries the bag of parts to her son’s room. “I’ll have him fix it as soon as he can.”

“Thank you,” says Balea, “but that’s not all I’ve come for.” She holds up the waterskin.

Eyes widening, Shmi shakes her head. “You can’t.”

“It is no hardship, Shmi,” Balea insists. “You have helped me so much when Isana was sick.”

“I am happy to help, Bal,” protests Shmi. “It was no hardship. I know Girr–”

“Let us not talk about Girr,” says Balea, her face turning hard at the mention of her owner. “The water is clean, but not potable. I would be happy to thank you for the care you showed my child. Please.”

Shmi looks at the waterskin in Balea’s hands. It has been such a long time since she’d felt the coolness of water on her skin, and Balea does have rather nice hands, and long, strong, triple-jointed fingers.

“Alright,” she says. “And thank you. It is not necessary.”

“Reciprocity,” Balea says simply. “And I know you, Shmi. You never accept anything.”

“I’m accepting you now,” says Shmi with a smile. She leads them to her room and closes the door. Anakin isn’t due in another hour, and nowadays Watto likes to keep him late. She has learned not to question it. Maybe Balea can help her learn not to worry, even if only for a short while.

She undresses, unwrapping the belt that keeps the many layers of her robes together. On the other side of the small room, Balea pours the water from the skin into the bucket. As Shmi lies down on her front on her narrow pallet, Balea pulls some  _ palli _ tree leaves from a pouch on her belt and and crushes them into the water. Shmi inhales deeply as their sweet scent fills the room. Taking a washcloth from another pouch, Balea dips it into the water and kneels next to Shmi’s prone body.

“I have forgotten,” she says, somewhat apologetically. “But what parts should I avoid?”

“Just my feet,” says Shmi, resting her head on her crossed arms. As Balea picks up the wet washcloth, carefully wringing it out and sending water dripping into the bowl, Shmi closes her eyes. The sound takes her back to her childhood, far away from Tatooine. The memory has long stopped hurting her. She no longer misses her planet, her family, but she does miss the water.

A shiver runs down her spine at the first press of the damp cloth to her shoulder. “Too cold?” asks Balea.

“It is fine,” says Shmi, eyes still closed. The washcloth has been wrung out to the point of dryness, but even that small amount of cool dampness refreshes and soothes in a way the sonic showers never can. Balea rubs the cloth in small concentric circles first over one shoulder, than the other. Shmi focuses on the texture of the slightly rough cloth, the tingle it leaves on her skin after Balea has passed over it. Balea’s free hand curls around her waist for stability as the other woman bends over her, her fingers three points of warmth that contrast against the coolness of the water.

Balea hums as she worked, a low tune that keeps pace with the movements of the washcloth. She moves steadily down Shmi’s back, every now and then dipping the cloth back into the water to refresh it. She passes it over Shmi’s thighs, then follows with her long clever fingers pressing into the weary muscle. When she finally reaches Shmi’s ankles and stops, she carefully guides her onto her back.

The water feels even better on her front. Layers of sweat feel wiped away with one swipe. The cool cloth travels over her breasts and Shmi feels her nipples tighten. “I forgot they do that,” Balea says with a soft laugh. She swipes the cloth over them several times until Shmi has to laugh.

“You can touch them later,” she promises, opening her eyes and locking gazes with Balea. The other woman smiles and moves on.

Shmi’s belly is ticklish, so Balea moves lightly there. She traces the cloth carefully over the scars where’d they cut Shmi open to get Anakin out, following their path with her fingers. Her touch leaves trails of fire over Shmi’s skin.

Before her hands move further down, she looks up to meet Shmi’s eyes. “May I?” she asks.

“This does not have to be part of your reciprocity,” Shmi tells her.

“No,” says Balea with a smile that crinkles up her entire weathered, yellow face. “It is a gift. Do you accept?”

Shmi nods and spreads her legs a little, to allow Balea better access. The washcloth, refreshed from the bucket, is cool as it travels over her folds. The rough cloth provides interesting stimulation against her clit. It’s been a long time since Shmi has allowed someone to pleasure her, and even that last time, it had been Balea.

Her smile now teasing, Balea leans over and whispers, “I remember what you like.” The same concentric circles she’d traced over Shmi’s back and breast she now repeats, in smaller spirals. Shmi sighs as small waves of pleasure start moving through her. She spreads her legs a little wider.

“Would you like to sit up?” Balea asks.

“If you could put your mouth on me?” Shmi asks, breathless with arousal and nervousness. She blushes at her request.

“Of course,” says Balea, and she helps Shmi sit up on the pallet and spread her legs. The washcloth is abandoned in the bucket. The small pillow Shmi uses gets tucked under her back, and Balea folds herself down before her. 

“I like how you smell,” she says with a smile, then sinks down between Shmi’s legs. The first warm, wet touch of her tongue makes Shmi twitch. She moves surely despite the unfamiliar anatomy. Spreading her open with her long fingers, and licking firmly between her folds, sucking lightly on the engorged nub of her clit. Suddenly she stops her ministration with her mouth and looks up, though her thumb continues the gentle circles. “I remember. No penetration, yes?”

Shmi, breathing shallowly with arousal, nods. “No penetration, please,” she confirms, and gives Balea a reassuring smile. “You’re being amazing.”

Balea laughs. “It is my pleasure,” she says. “You taste good,” and she lowers her head back down between Shmi’s legs. Shmi lets her head fall back, idly wondering what exactly ‘good’ is to Balea’s far more sensitive and diversified tastebuds. Her musings do not go far, distracted as she is by her mounting pleasure. She runs her hands over Balea’s hairless head, traces the tips of her pointed ears.

“I’m close,” she warns.

Balea runs a large, warm hand up her thigh and cups her buttocks, pulling her closer.

Shmi comes with a small cry, closing her eyes against the rush of pleasure that spread through her from the point between her legs. Balea does not let up, keeping up with her ministrations until she pulls a second orgasm from Shmi. Once Shmi has fallen back onto her pallet, she sits up, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.

“Come here,” says Shmi, extending her hand, and Balea climbs in next to her. “Can I do anything for you?”

Balea shakes her head. “This is fine.” She tucks her head in Shmi’s shoulder. “Your skin is so soft, under those clothes.”

Shmi smiles. By human standards, she is rough and worn and wrinkled, but she must seem soft compared to Balea’s warm, leathery skin.

“Thank you so much for doing this.”

Balea huffs warmly against her neck. “No need to thank me. I have enjoyed this too.”

They do not stay curled up too long. Balea has to return to her daughter, and Shmi still has dinner to make. Shmi dresses as Balea filters the crushed palli leaves from the water and returns it to the water skin. She will use it to water her small hydroponics garden, and for the small  _ chikka _ birds she rears for eggs.

Shmi walks Balea to the door. “You are always welcome in this home,” she tells her. “No matter the reason.”

“And you in mine.”

Shmi gives her a small kiss, on the arc of her high cheek, and Balea blushes. She playfully flicks Shmi’s nose, then leaves.

“I’ll make sure Anakin brings you the fixed parts soon!” Shmi calls after her. She gets gesture of acknowledgement, then Balea turns a corner and is gone. Sighing, Shmi closes the door.

In the kitchen, she checks her reflection in a pot, making sure her hair and clothes are neat, before she starts preparing dinner. Hopefully Anakin will be home soon.

  
  



End file.
